Tiny fish
Many years ago, in Napoli, I caused a traffic accident. My head was in the clouds - daydreaming about an antique silverfish with an emerald eye - when I stepped out onto a one way road. But it wasn't one way. The motorcyclist braked. His body lurched forward and scraped along the asphalt in slow motion as I stood, rooted to the spot, watching him die. Everything else stopped, but the screams of the drivers behind me. And then somehow, he arose. He trembled as he looked at the palms of his hands. They were embedded with grit, but no blood. In the end, he comforted me, I don't know why, and I still feel such guilt for killing a man, even if he didn't die. I always wanted to live in Napoli, and maybe one day I will. But for now, I'm here. I feel so at ease in this city. At night the bricks are soft to the touch, but I daren't. And there are no roads. Today, I bought a tiny, antique, silver fish. ⠀